


A Potter-Weasley Christmas

by okinawasobas



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Family, Gen, Next-Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 04:41:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5614291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okinawasobas/pseuds/okinawasobas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas morning holds different delights for each member of the Potter family. For hogwartssecretsanta 2015 on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Potter-Weasley Christmas

**a potter-weasley christmas**   
21 december 2015   
  


 

**i.**

Harry’s favorite moment of Christmas starts early in the morning. He stirs awake gently at roughly 6:45 am to the creaking of his bedroom door. Ginny doesn’t begin to stir yet; the woman could sleep through the end of the world, he thinks fondly. The door creaks a bit more, he reaches blindly to the bedside table for his glasses, and the blurs by the entrance give way to three little faces poking their noses into the door crack.

He yawns, stretches his arms over his head. Ginny stirs once, he winks at his children, and waves them in with the gentle point of one finger. His children tiptoe gently into the room; James leads the way with the superiority of his oldest child position, Albus follows, as is his customary state at the vulnerable age of seven, and five year old Lily brings up the rear, brown eyes wide and cheeks red with childhood glee. They creep into the bedroom and position themselves at the edge of his bed.

“It’s Christmastime, daddy,” Lily whispers as best she can. Harry nods, grinning wildly.   
“That is is, sweetie,” he whispers back. “But it seems like mommy doesn’t know about it yet.”   
“Can we tell her?” James stage whispers, unable to hold back his own excitement.   
“Well, I suppose,” he winks. “All together then. Three, two, one..”

The children, who have crawled their way to Ginny’s side of the bed, pounce all at once. “It’s Christmas, mommy!” they shout all together, landing on their mother in various states of disarray and tangling limbs. Harry doesn’t try to stifle his giggles; Ginny shrieks loudly at the jolt of being awake, takes in the moment, and blinks wildly at Harry.

“Your children seem to think it’s Christmas,” she says, staring wide eyed at her husband.   
“So they do,” he replies with a bemused grin. The children in question have spread themselves out on the bed; Lily has crawled her way onto Harry’s back, James curled up in a ball beside his mother, and Al is sprawled across both parents legs, all looking at their parents expectedly.

Harry wakes up to the lights of his life every Christmas morning; their mischievous grins and delighted giggles, and this is his favorite moment of Christmas.

 

**ii.**

Lily’s favorite moment of Christmas is the same highlight as everyone else, she believes strongly at age five. Mommy and Daddy take too long to wake up, she thinks indignantly, and even longer to go downstairs. Santa has been here, there’s presents under the tree and snow on the ground, and she wants presents now! She loves her mommy and loves her daddy, but they have been sitting in bed for way too long, and it’s present time. So she crawls off Daddy’s shoulders and to the bedroom door, faces her family, and puts her hands on her hips.

“It’s  _ time _ to open  _ presents, _ ” she declares forcefully. For some reason though, her parents and James are giggling at her instead of getting out of bed. She lets them giggle for what’s probably been hours longer (in reality it was likely thirty seconds), then sighs. “I  _ sa-a-a-i-d, _ ” she’s louder this time; “it’s t- _ i-i-i- _ me for pr _ esents _ .” She crosses her arms, and finally everyone gets the message and crawls out of bed. “F _ inally _ ,” Lily exclaims before racing Al downstairs.

She wins, of course, getting the best seat and the best cushion closest to the tree (and the presents!). Mommy and Daddy like to see everyone open their presents, so her older brothers sort the gifts between the three, and one at a time they open gifts from their parents. James gets a new potions kit, Al gets a new toy broomstick, and Lily gleefully opens her new art kit. It comes complete with paints that change color and markers that won’t color unless they’re on paper! Excitedly, she bounces to hug both her parents, kiss Daddy on the cheek, and races back to the tree.

“I have presents for you, too!” she shouts happily. Lily likes to shout, especially when she’s excited. And she worked  _ so  _ hard on their presents, it took her a whole three hours to get the colors just right! So she digs out two wrapped packages from behind the tree, (“I wrapped them myself!” she exclaims,) and hands each to her parents.

“Okay, on a-count-of-three. One, two…”  
“Oh, Lily, they’re lovely!”

She spent a lot of time working on them, it’s two drawings of her whole family. Daddy’s scar stands out prominently behind his glasses, Mommy’s holding a broomstick in her hand, and the whole family waves and smiles from their places in the photos. “Aunt ‘Mione helped make them move,” Lily says shyly as her parents admire the photos. “There’s one for here at home and one for Daddy’s office. I hope you like them.”

“Of course, Lil, we love them,” Daddy says, welcoming her into a hug. The family crawls and cuddles together on the couch, and while Lily loves opening presents from her parents, her favorite moment of Christmas is this, when her parents are admiring her handiwork (and whatever James and Albie made), and they’re all piled together on the couch.

 

**iii.**

Al’s favorite moment of Christmas begins and ends at the Burrow. Christmas lunch is always really good, Ma and Papa always work really hard on lunch (Momma says that Ma Weasley does all the work while Papa tinkers in the shed), and he does love getting to see his cousins. Rose grins at him when they walk through the door.

“I’ve lost a tooth,” the fellow seven-year-old exclaims in lieu of a greeting. Al eyes his redheaded cousin appreciatively.

“Good one!” he shoots her a thumbs up, then observes the scene before him. “Ma and Papa did a really good job this year on decorations.”

“Yeah!” Rose shouts in response. Rose does a lot of shouting, especially when the whole family gets together like this. “Daddy brought us over last night to help, and they worked real hard on everything! It’s really pretty at night from outside when it’s all lit up!”

Their conversation is quickly cut short by shouts of “Dinner!” and “Everyone wash up!” Al follows Rose into the dining room, where they quickly lie to their grandmother (“Yes, Ma, we’ve washed our hands!”) and take seats on the children’s end of the table. Roxanne is on Rose’s other side, chatting amiably with Dominique, and James is gesticulating wildly at Molly on the other side of the table, who looks alarmed but pleased at the attention.

Dinner is served, the Potter-Weasley children scarfing their food down as quickly as possible, and it’s Dominique’s turn this year to ask for their excuse from the table. The adults, who know the pattern by now, wave them off quickly and return to their conversation. At this, 12 teenagers and children trip over each other to race outside to the big clearing by the pond behind the Burrow.

“Alright everyone, you know the drill!”  Teddy, hair striking colors of red and green for the occasion, takes charge of the clan from the front. The others are lined up carefully by age, and Al is nearly quivering with excitement. “It’s time to draw names for captains!” He then pulls his wand out along with 13 scraps of paper. Victoire, standing next to him, holds a small bowl out where Teddy then places the paper. He draws two pieces, and turns to face them again.

“And this year’s team captains are,” he clears his throat, “Freddie, and Dominique!”

It’s a serious occasion, there is no cheering for their team captains; instead, the two chosen step forward solemnly, and chose their teams. Al finds himself on Freddie’s team, along with Lily. Rose is carted off to Dominique’s team with James, and they huddle up for their first meeting as a team.

“Alright everyone, you know what happens next,” Freddie begins. The children listen attentively to their cousin. “We spread out. Cover as much ground as possible. Are we ready, troops?”

“Yes sir,” the cousins chorus. At the sound of Teddy’s whistle (he’s always the referee as he’s the eldest), Al runs as fast as he can to the grove of blackberry bushes next to the pond. He burrows himself beneath them, and begins building up snowballs as fast as he can.

“Sonorus,” he hears Teddy say from nearby, then his voice is booming. “On my whistle, captains throw the first shot, then it’s every man. Ready? Three, two, one.”

There’s Teddy’s whistle again, Al watches Dominique and Freddie’s first shots from his perch in the blackberry grove, and then it’s a full on snowball massacre. He throws his first shot, which hits Louis dead in the back, and then he realizes his mistake as 3 members of the other team see his hiding spot and begin blasting the blackberry bushes with snowballs faster than he can reproduce them.

Nearly an hour later, the 12 children are racing back to the Burrow, soaked with snow, cheeks red, and are greeted at the door with admonishments of “Shoes and coats at the door everyone!” Al strips off his coat and shoes quickly, and gratefully accepts the mug of hot chocolate Aunt Fleur offers him. His team has won this year, despite his fatal mistake towards the beginning, and the gloating privileges will carry him into next year gladly. Al settles in between Rose and James on the couch, sips his hot chocolate, and begins to regain feeling in his toes. Christmas day at the Burrow, with the hustle and bustle of family, massive Christmas dinner, the annual snowball fight, and finishing with hot chocolate and the laughter of his family, is Albus’ favorite part of Christmas.

 

**iv.**

James, easily excitable, wild nine-year-old limbs, constantly tripping over his shoelaces, prefers nighttime at home with just his family over the noise and excitement of the Burrow. He loves his extended family of course, enjoys the snowball fight and the food and the presents from his aunts and uncles, but his favorite moment of Christmas is covering up with a blanket in front of the fire at night. Momma brings him a steaming mug of his favorite toffee hot chocolate, kisses him on the forehead, and settles in beside Dad. Albus and Lily are curled up on the floor, playing wizard’s chess (badly, he might add) and will inevitably fall asleep in front of the fire.

“Did you have fun today James?” Dad says, addressing him shortly after his siblings fall asleep. James nods, yawns widely, and takes another sip of hot chocolate.  
“Yeah, it was great. Freddie’s team won the snowball fight today though, but that’s alright. My team will win every year when I’m captain.”

Momma laughs. “Of course you will, kiddo, of course.”

They sit quietly in front of the fire, his parents occasionally chattering lightly about the day’s events, then finally Dad stretches and stands up. “Time to put the kids in bed I think,” he says with a wink in James’ direction. “That means you, kiddo.”

James pretends to protest, but really he’s tired from all the running and excitement of the day. So his protests wane quickly as his parents carry the other siblings to their respective bedrooms. He crawls into his bed near Al’s, and curls up beneath the covers. His parents kiss him on the forehead.

“Love you, happy Christmas James,” Dad says with a smile.   
“Happy Christmas,” he mutters sleepily, eyes already closed.   
“Sweet dreams,” Momma adds.

He hears the click of the door, Albus’ light breathing, and his last thought before falling asleep is of how much he loves the last few moments of his Christmas.

 

**v.**

Ginny follows her husband back to the living room after tucking her children into bed. Harry falls onto the couch with a content, loving smile to his wife, and she ducks under the tree to pull the last two parcels out from underneath. This is her favorite part of Christmas, she thinks as she sinks into the couch beside Harry, legs crossed underneath her and facing her husband.

“This one’s yours, love,” she says, handing him the larger of the two packages. He grins, and hands her the smaller.  
“And that’s yours,” he says. “Love you.”  
“Love you too.”

She loves this moment with the father of her children, exchanging one last gift after the children have fallen asleep. They always spend the last moments of Christmas together in front of the fire, with one last gift to exchange between them, soft lighting and wide smiles and domestic bliss. She’d never taken herself for the domestic type per se, but she finds herself struck by her family every day for something new, and falls a bit more in love with her husband and kids as each day passes. She nods towards him, and smiles.

“You first,” she gestures towards his present, and he grins.  
“Alright then.”

He opens the parcel meticulously, slowly opening every piece of tame individually and keeping every bit of paper intact. She knows he’s doing this just to torture her, she cannot stand the suspense of waiting for him to open his gift and he absolutely knows it, but she contains herself this year. The present is too good to ruin with her impatience, and finally after  _ ages _ of waiting, he’s finally pulling the paper off and taking a good look at the box.

“It’s, er..” he frowns, brow furrowing. She’s giggling now, both at his expression and the box in his hand. “Oh god, Gin. What?”  
“It’s SANTAUR.”

She shouts this last word, shaking with laughter and trying desperately not to wake her kids. “Get it? Santaur? Because it’s Santa the Centaur?”

He snorts at this, rolls his eyes, and inspects the statue carefully, who has begin kicking and stamping its feet. “Gin, this is ridiculous.”

“It’s fucking awful, right?” she grins. “I think I’ve won it this year.” Her husband smirks.   
“You haven’t opened yours yet,” he replies casually, stuffing Santaur back in its box.

Ginny tears through the paper of her package quickly, and finds herself falling off the couch after she sees it. She cannot breathe, she’s laughing so hard, and she chucks the offending object back at her husband.

“You absolute arsehole, you’ve won it,” she manages to choke out, composing herself (slowly) and clambering back onto the couch. He grins widely and passes the gift back to his wife.

“I knew it,” he said with a grin.  
“Does it really fart?” she exclaims.  
“Try it out.”  
“I’d rather not.”

He’s managed to find a Christmas ornament of a reindeer’s ass, that apparently farts when prompted. Ginny would rather not find out for sure, but she does have to admit that it does beat Santaur by a few points. She gathers the gifts up to display with the rest of their tacky Christmas gifts (it’s a strange tradition they picked up just after James was born), and turns towards her husband.

“I fucking love you, you absolute idiot,” she remarks. He sticks his tongue out at her in response, and she leaves to display the gifts nicely with last year’s lot. She loves her husband, loves their weird tradition, loves her children and their various personalities and hobbies, and her favorite Christmas moment is looking over the tacky gifts from years past, looking at memories of Christmases past, and looking forward to whatever next year brings.


End file.
